


Paperweight

by Sabrielle



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Light Dom/sub, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabrielle/pseuds/Sabrielle
Summary: Vignettes of your time in the Handler's office.
Relationships: The Handler (Umbrella Academy)/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

The tip of the Handler's strap slid lazily between your ass cheeks. Every so often she pulled back to gently bump and tease your clit, before sliding a gloved hand down your back to settle on the curve of your waist. Her hair and outfit were immaculate as ever, skirt only now hitched to allow for the finely made harness and strap.

She had plucked you out of the time continuum specifically to work as her personal secretary. You were just another coveted piece to add to her collection; a toy to entertain… or punish as she preferred.

"So pretty." She sighed, "So good for me." She punctuated her sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, bumping your hips forward against the desk and causing you to moan around the gag in your mouth. 

"Ah, ah." She tutted, winding a hand into your hair and pulling you upright, forcing you to look to the closed double doors of her office. "You don't want my associates to hear you, do you?"

You whimpered in answer and nodded, pressing yourself back against the strap, desperate for release. 

"Good girl." The Handler cooed into your ear. She tweaked one of your nipples painfully before pushing you back down across her desk.

Pulling back she placed both hands over your hips, grasping them firmly.

"Unfortunately, dear, I need this handled before my next lunch meeting."

Without warning, she hilted her strap into your cunt in one smooth thrust. Your hips slammed against the desk painfully, mirroring the sharp thrust of pleasure that raced through your core.

"You are such a lovely distraction… As much as I would enjoy drawing this out..." she pulled back, teasing you as she did so. "And as much as I would like to imagine that he would savour the view..." The Handler slammed into you as if to push her point home. "I want you all to myself." 

Your face burned at the mere thought of someone coming into the office and seeing you in such a position. Other Commission members, including the analysts and even the field operatives, deferred to you with respect, granted your close position to the Handler. 

She fell into a slow and steady pace, taking the time to run her hands across your body. Dressed only in the garter and stockings from your Commission uniform, as per the Handler’s preference, you shivered at the slightest touch. 

Pausing again, she sighed, reaching forward to remove the gag. She placed it on the desk and adjusted her small table-mirror to properly reflect your face back to her. Patting your bottom in encouragement, the Handler's face lit up in a positively vicious smile. "You have my permission to beg." 

"Please..?" You barely breathed out the request, still worried about the volume of your voice. 

"Please, what?" She prompted, canting her hips just so, making you tense. Your blush deepened, burning hotly from your neck down to your chest. A specific ridge of the strap slid softly against your clit in encouragement. 

"Let me come... please."

You watched the Handler watch you plead in the reflection of the mirror. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Hmm…" she seemed pleased to draw out her decision, watching you wet your lips in anticipation. "... not this afternoon." Her smile at your disappointment somehow seemed even more sharp and lascivious than before. 

Withdrawing from you promptly, she unfastened the strap and harness, barely sparing you a second look. Tapping her desk clock, she smoothed out her dress skirt and re-applied her lipstick.

"Now be a darling and tidy up for me will you?"


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long, uninteresting day at work. The Handler had been out on personal business, so you had mostly been left to your own devices. Over the past seven hours, you had made some progress on the pile of paperwork at your desk, declined an offer for lunch from that guy in case management, and even been bored enough to start your ridiculously long, annual, self-evaluation report. Unbeknownst to you, your day was about to be in for a dramatic uptick in excitement.

The familiar, metered click of heels on the marble floor signaled her arrival. The Handler had returned, and she was livid. Staff hurried to clear her path as she headed straight for your desk.

“In my office. Now.”

It was nearly the end of the work-day, but you bit your tongue. You had always been more than... fairly compensated... for your overtime.

Following the Handler to her office, you closed the doors softly behind you. “Bad day?” You dared to proffer.

The Handler raised an eyebrow in response before pulling her painted lips into a perfect sneer. She leaned against the edge of her desk and lit a cigarette before taking a puff. Exhaling, she brandished the dainty cigarette extender at you in a sweeping motion.

“Take your clothes off.”

That explained the personal business. She was oh-so-rarely in a pleasant mood after an encounter with a certain... former Commission assassin. You often took the brunt of the Handler’s frustration, readily. You held her gaze, silently, for almost a full minute before slowly beginning to remove your shirt. This afternoon you felt like pushing your luck.

She smiled, a dangerous smile of all teeth. “You’ll regret that, dear.”

Any small act of defiance was warrant for punishment from your Mistress, and she meant everything she threatened. Although, you knew she savored your small flashes of rebellion... in controlled measures.

Draping your shirt over a nearby chair you paused again, looking expectantly to the Handler, a smirk gracing your lips. Your heart raced. This was a risky game to play at.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a brat, _all_ of it.”

You acquiesced. Obediently unzipping your skirt, removing your underthings, and placing them with your other pieces of clothing. It left you only in your stockings. The Handler surveyed you from across the room. She cocked her head and exhaled a veil of smoke before nodding towards the chaise across from you. Her intentions were clear, yet you couldn’t help but want to push just a little bit further. You would never usually be so bold as to outright ignore her instructions, but the Handler’s fiery attitude and your boring day of work only served to spur you on. Daintily, still in your heels, you waltzed across the floor, lifted the cigarette from your boss’s fingers, and took a self-satisfied puff before returning it. Before you could even think, her hand was fisted in your hair and a wicked sharp letter-opener was at your throat.

“Do. Not. Try. Me. Today, darling.” The Handler punctuated each word with a sharp tug to your hair, speaking around the cigarette extender clenched in her teeth. The letter opener, which, if you remembered correctly, was actually an ornate 7th-century dagger, bit into the soft flesh under your jaw. You were scared now, aroused, but far too nervous to act up again.

“If you are set on behaving like a brat, then I suppose...” She gave you her most winning smile, it made you shiver, “I’ll be forced to treat you like one.” Tha Handler pushed the knife a little deeper into your throat before dropping her hands from you. Patting your face, she turned away and drew on her cigarette. “Stay.” She motioned. Her words were firm and direct. The Handler’s calm was somehow even more frightening than her storm, and her sights were unwaveringly set on you. Exhaling, she stepped over to the far end of her desk. The mechanical click and draw of the drawer being opened was the only prompt your body needed. A warm flush spread up your chest and your core practically throbbed in anticipation as you watched your boss. With a tilt of her chin, she motioned you over to where she stood, behind the desk. In one gloved hand she held a simple remote, and in the other a slender, hooked vibrator. You bit your lip. The Handler looked positively keen.

“Open up.” She pushed the vibrator into your mouth, rolling it along your tongue with a twist of her wrist before removing it. You knew what was coming next.

“Now be a good slut and spread your legs.” Apprehension and excitement met on your face in equal measure. Without pause you turned, bracing yourself on the desk in a familiar pose, spreading your legs and arching your back slightly. You peeked coyly over your shoulder, watching as the Handler slid the toy up inside of you. The hooked end slid teasingly over your clit; maybe you weren’t in so much trouble after all...

Cocking her head at you, the Handler held up the remote. A soft double-click and your knees nearly buckled. “God… fuck.” You gasped reflexively as you reached out for the desk to steady yourself. Placing a hand on your shoulder, the Handler gently pushed you to your knees. She smiled down at you, radiating smugness. “I’m your god now, sweetheart.” Your eyes fluttered as she ramped up the vibrations even higher, steadying yourself, you pressed your hands into the plush threads of the rug. Your cunt clenched involuntarily around the toy. The Handler settled into her desk chair next to you, and crooking a finger, lifted your chin.

"Now," she said, running a thumb over your bottom lip, before pulling it down to expose your teeth, "remind me of what a good girl you can be."

You could only groan in response as you felt the heat pooling between your legs, the toy continued to vibrate away, mercilessly. Running a hand over your hair, the Handler straightened up, uncrossing her legs. All too well, you know what she’s looking for, and you were desperate to provide. With a purposeful hand, she pulled the skirt of her dress up and parted her thighs. You were unsurprised at her lack of underwear, a common occurrence during many of your office trysts. Attempting as best you could in your condition, you sat up primly, kneeling before the Handler as she used one hand to sign off and stamp the stack of documents on her desk, while the other she continued to run idly through your hair.

To begin, you nuzzled at her thigh, planting kisses and soft love bites over the lace of her stockings. Her scent was sharp and alluring; a mix of feminine musk and expensive perfume. Tensing, you gripped the chair legs, pressing your face to her as your first orgasm wracked your body. You moaned against her softly, as she tightened a hand in your hair and again, increased the frequency of the vibrations with a click. Desperately, you pressed yourself to her, gripping her thigh. Drawing your tongue between her lips, you circled her clit and lapped at her gently. The Handler hmmed and sighed in pleasure above you. The vibrator continued to hum away inside you, slicking your thighs with your own wetness. Your tongue faltered and you drew back, biting your lip, eyes rolling in your head as your orgasmed a second time. Now you were becoming tender to the point of numbness, edging on pain. You had been given so little attention from her the past week, you were horribly sensitive.

The Handler ignored your whines of overstimulation, continuing to run her free hand through your hair, and you did your best to focus on pleasing her, as you so dearly wanted to. Your knees felt raw from kneeling on the carpet and you were shivering from the steady stimulation of your clit, but more than anything you wanted to please her. Again, you started, wincing slightly as she tugged your hair in an act of encouragement. Her legs parted further, giving way to you. You pulled through, licking expertly. Pressing your mouth fully to her cunt, you delivered a deep and passionately french kiss. With a muffled moan, you ate her out with an unmatched fervor, as you rode the near painful crest of your next release. Running her nails lightly across your neck, the Handler stroked your face with the back of her hand as you cried out against her and orgasmed for the third time. You laid your head against her thigh, panting; not even daring to raise a hand and remove the vibrator, even though it had been turned it off. Lifting your chin and leaning forward the Handler pressed her mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

“Now, clean yourself up. I made us dinner reservations for six.”


End file.
